Alice didn't watch Bucky leave. There was really no choice about it; she knew she had definitely intended to keep a solid mile between her and James Buchanan Barnes at all time, but the idiot himself had ruined the plan. She knew she should have kept her distance, but what was she supposed to do when he blatantly threatened to tell Fletcher that she was leaving camp without permission?
She let Ingrid sign perform his final check-up, and definitely did not hide in an unusual place to avoid running into him.
It didn't help that every time she looked at his face she wondered how long it would take to tear away his personality. She saw him smile and wondered when would be the last time. He made a joke and she tasted the ash of complicity stain her tongue as she laughed.
It didn't help that he was quite charming. She knew that he knew he was charming, too. She enjoyed it a little too much that she didn't respond to his charm. She wanted to keep it that way, and that required distance.
September roared past with almost no warning bringing with it a rush of rain, mud, and blood. The evenings turned bitter cold, and Alice was thrust almost all at once back into the fever-pitch of winter maladies.
Something must have happened out on the Front, as Dum Dum could hardly find the time to see her. Alice was turned away from the Trenches more nights than she was allowed in because of mortars, but she tried to take it as good exercise for Grani either way.
The casual ease of summer gave way with almost no warning and a tense resolution grew in the shoulders of her patients, rolling through in ever-increasing waves. The four nurses could no longer work regular shifts with the promise of a full night of sleep, and even Alice began to feel the strain. The change of seasons meant that herbal supplies were beginning to wane after a strong peak, and she would need to harvest everything in sight to get through the winter.
Out of the oddest of habits, Alice would whisper a poem to herself to stay awake as she dried, powdered, and stored herbs through the long, increasingly cold nights.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
As she harvested from the field, the grasses growing golden and brittle in her hands.
But I have promises to keep,
Tying bundles and hanging them from every rafter, checking them nightly.
And miles to go before I sleep
Patting her cheeks to keep awake for the third night in a row.
And miles to go before I sleep.
"Hey Alice," Thompson called to Alice and she jerked awake from her hunched position at the nurses' desk.
"I'm awake," she protested without prompting, but blinked blearily at Thompson.
"Sure you are; so you don't need this coffee?" He waved the cup gently enough in her direction to waft the fumes at her.
"Gimme," Alice demanded, holding out both hands and frowning when he pulled back.
"You're needed at Triage – special call," he explained.
Alice moaned something like an assent under her breath, standing and cracking her back. "How long was I out?"
Thompson handed Alice her customary satchel. "About twenty minutes – grab your coat, too; it's pouring out."
Heavy sheets of rain blew through the 111th like icy razorblades, cutting through warm, dry clothes with a brutal ferocity. The waxed canvas provided temporary respite, given you had avoiding bullets and other piercing damage to the sensitive treated layer.
Alice followed Thompson through the fierce weather at the fastest pace they could manage without spilling her coffee or tripping into an open trench.
They shook their coats out furiously as they entered Thompson's Triage tent, and Grani nickered in greeting. Alice's attention was drawn to a familiar face, however. "Sergeant Dugan!" she greeted. "Run out of men to use as an excuse to see me?"
"Ma'am, I've a favor to ask." Dum Dum's moustache didn't move into his usual signature smile, and Alice knew the seriousness of the situation weighed heavily on him.
Alice hung her coat up, a look of concern growing on her face. "Of course, Sergeant – always."
His head jerked in a tight nod. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I need a pick-me-up or some genuine magic for three hundred."
Alice's jaw dropped, but she quickly clicked her mouth shut. "That's… quite the tall order, Sergeant."
Dum Dum gave her a look and jerked his head towards the back corner of the tent – Grani's little paddock, far from prying eyes. Alice followed him and Dugan spoke in a quiet whisper. "Between you, me, and hi-ho-Silver here, we've got some big orders coming and I don't think we'll make it the way we are now."
Alice chewed on her lip. "What are you thinking?"
He bobbed his head from side to side in a this-or-that motion. "A shot of coffee to the nuts, L.T."
A sharp report of laughter burst from her mouth and she quickly covered it. "Sorry, just-"
Dum Dum finally cracked a grin. "Yes, ma'am."
Alice rubbed her thumb against her pointer finger, digging in the nail a bit. "How long do I have to get this miracle potion together?"
"A week at most?" He sounded so hopeful, Alice just couldn't refuse.
She nodded. "A week on the dot, I'll have it for you."
Alice wracked her brain for days, trying to figure out how to make the "miracle potion" she had promised Dum Dum. She chewed her lip until it bled, healed overnight, and bled again. She rubbed the nail of her thumb against her finger until that bled, too.
Ingrid poked her head to check on Alice the night before her miracle potion was due, an earnest look of concern wrapped around her. "What's on your mind, sugar?" Ingrid asked.
"I made a promise I can't keep," Alice groaned. "Or at least, I can't think of how to do it."
Ingrid nodded knowingly. "My Ma always told me to think like I'd already done it, and that would make it possible."
Alice sighed heavily. "Sorry, Ingrid – wishing can't always make it so."
"It's not wishing – it's like… tricking your brain!" Ingrid defended.
"But-" Alice started to contradict, but stopped as a shot of inspiration struck her. Alice sat bolt upright so fast her hair flopped forward from the momentum. "Ingrid…" Alice said slowly. She stood equally slowly, like a cat stalking prey, before bursting into motion. "You're a genius!"
"Did that help?" Ingrid asked hopefully.
Alice leapt over a full two cots in a shocking display of athleticism to the younger nurse and seized her face, kissing both cheeks in quick succession. Ingrid yelped in surprise and fell backwards as Alice let go just as fast and ran out of the tent, still yelling her thanks.
Alice burst into the mess tent with her chest heaving and her eyes blazing with wild fervor. "Your biggest cookpot, Cookie – I need it! I also need all that Wood sorrel I gave you – you didn't use it yes, did you?"
"Still got it." He looked confused, but complied. "Too lemony. Too wet."
"No – it's perfect," Alice nodded fervently to herself. "It's perfect."
October 3rd, 1943
Alice was waiting for Dum Dum at Triage when he pulled up in the jeep, Thompson's desk covered from end to end in Army-issue two-gallon drink dispensers. Alice had begged, borrowed, and stolen as many as she could from every corner. She had twelve gallons of her "magic potion" and the pride she felt about it threatened to burst from her in beams of pure sunlight.
Alice greeted him confidently. "Evening, Sergeant – five days, as promised. There's enough for four ounces per man, with a little to spare for those that need a little extra encouragement." She waved her arm like a regular Vanna White at her pride and joy.
Dum Dum approached with interest, hands settling on each huge insulated container in turn. "What is it?" he asked, opening a lid to give a sniff.
Alice snapped the lid shut, almost catching his moustache. "It's genuine magic, just like you asked."
"Really?" he asked dubiously. "Because it looks like tea to me. Cold tea."
"Does every Sergeant in the 107th doubt my magic, or is it just you and Barnes?" Alice protested in exasperation.
"Haven't met Barnes more than once, but I think we'd get along fine now," Dum Dum replied.
Alice and Dum Dum started loading the huge insulated containers into the Jeep. "Just tell them it's from Nurse Shaw – 'for what ails you', and all that."
"You really want me to say that?" Dugan raised an eyebrow and looked somehow more skeptical. "For what ails you?"
Alice thought for a moment. "You're right – it needs to be without saying…" she mumbled quietly under her breath for a few seconds, thinking through something out loud. She snapped her fingers, startling both Thompson and Dugan. "I'll be right back!" she declared before running off.
Dugan watched her run off, then leaned towards Thompson. "She do that often?"
"I've got a horse in Triage – what do you think?"
Alice returned swiftly with her arms full of an orange-red flower that looked a little like Ragweed, only the stems were bright red, too. She panted a little to catch her breath, and wrapped the plants up in a canvas sheet to protect them from the drive. "Tie a few of these amaranth blossoms around the spigots so the tea – the magic tea – has to pour through it. That'll do it."
"L.T., don't snap your cap or anything, but I've got better than rocks rattling around under this fine hat of mine." Dugan looked at her flatly. "You tell me straight now – what is all this?"
Alice was visibly distressed and tugged at her hair in a distinctly juvenile motion. "If I explain it, it loses the magic – and I do mean that. It'll work, I promise. If you believe it works."
She pulled one of the springs of amaranth from the protective cloth, waving it slightly like one might wave a banner flag, testing the snap of the fabric. "I figured I couldn't make everyone into real super-soldiers – not in five days, anyway – but I could settle stomachs, quench thirst, and freshen the mind. But your men don't need reason or science or truth right now. " She waved the amaranth in front of her face, concealing one eye mysteriously. Her eyes were clear and bright, not blood-shot or surrounded by purple smears like all of those around her. "Your men need magic."
She put the amaranth back in the protective wrapping, and Dugan watched her steady motions with new appreciation. It was a hell of a ballsy move she was trying to pull. "Yes Ma'am – I think they'll appreciate a good spell from the Witch of the Western Front."
Alice didn't have to wait long to find out if her fake potion worked. Two days later, Alice heard the roar of the Jeeps as they tore up the road in deep troughs of mud, bearing down on the 111th with frantic speed. Nurses and doctor alike were woken and rushed into action as a hundred men in various stages of dying filled every bed.
"What's going on?" Alice asked, running past Gloria and Ingrid to get fresh bandages as they ran in the other direction towards the surgery tent.
"The 107th is pushing towards Azzano – they've gained almost ten miles – they really showed 'em!" Ingrid cried.
Alice stopped cold but the world kept moving around her.
Azzano.
Alice had helped the 107th push towards Azzano.
And capture.
Torture.
Alice retched into an open trench.
No one noticed.
A/N: OH MAN I was definitely supposed to be packing as I wrote this. I'm wrapping up one of my 5-week work trips and 100% procrastinating. I basically take over a hotel room for a month and packing everything again is the WORST.
This chapter didn't originally exist in my outline, but I'm so happy it appeared. I wanted Alice to be presented with an impossible task while at the same time needed to explain the 107th's push from trenches into makeshift foxholes.
This chapter was written entirely by repeating this song until I hated it: Still Feel by half alive
Many thanks to my reviewers: UnknownReaderHasJoined, Ronnie.H, TikiKiki and Sanguinary Tide!
PLEASE REVIEW!